Let's Not Say Goodbye
by Rubisco
Summary: Yama's leaving. He wants to say goodbye. But Taichi's NEVER on time for anything, now, is he? Angsty Yama with fluffy Taito topping, anyone?
1. Part I

Standard Disclaimer: Don't own it. 

**Let's Not Say Goodbye** since you are still here.  
Let's not speak of forgetting since we can remember.  
Some say life is long.  
Some say life is short.  
But even forever has some place it needs to go.  
Therefore, let's conquer time. 

--------------::::"""::::--------------- 

His hand clenched into a fist. 

It was a mistake. Of course it was. He couldn't do _anything_ but make mistakes. 

Staring at the red marks his nails made on his otherwise flawless skin, Ishida Yamato smiled bitterly. 

Foolish. Everything in the world was foolish. How could he have actually let himself believe in perfection? How could he have so blindly trusted others not to ruin this one day in his life? 

No. Not others. Just Tai. 

Empty, he felt so empty. Even the anger had drained away. 

Days of planning, of cleaning the apartment. So hard to find a block of free time between their busy schedules. 

But he'd managed, _made_ time for his best friend. He was going on tour with his band after all, probably wouldn't see Taichi for a year at the very least. They needed to say goodbye. 

He'd invited the other boy over for lunch, been so careful with the food, wanted to remember this day. The last time he saw Taichi needed to be special so that the darkness and the loneliness between concerts wouldn't swallow him. The last time he saw Taichi needed to be perfect so that when dad never called and mom refused to care, so that when TK was too busy for him, he could remember warm brown eyes and feel wanted, cared for. 

Yamato hadn't expected Taichi to be on time. Really, only a fool would expect to see that huge brown mass called hair on time. But was he a fool to actually expect Taichi to _show up_? 

Two hours late. No phone call. Carefully prepared food gone cold. 

Turning away from where he'd been standing to stare out the window, Yamato walked past the kitchen towards his bedroom. He paused by the table with its picture perfect image of a stone cold lunch, biting his lip angrily. 

No. He wasn't going to call Taichi. He wasn't desperate for the other boy's company. He didn't _need_ a best friend to always pick up the pieces when he shattered. 

He could take care of himself. 

Fragile, that's the word he's looking for. Yamato sat on his bed, wishing this feeling would disappear. He was ashamed of his weakness, ashamed of his self pity. Didn't he spend his entire life trying to destroy this need for others? Why was he so sensitive? Why did the tiniest things hurt him? 

The divorce wasn't a tiny thing, though. Being ripped away from his brother like that...it had felt like dying. He just didn't want to hurt anymore. It used to be simple. Shove people away from you. No friends. No pain. Just emptiness. 

Except he couldn't shove Taichi away. The other boy wormed his way through the ice and the walls and the shells. Taichi matched Yamato's own cold temper with fire. The beginning of their friendship was marked with bruises, curses, punches, and kicks. They bloody tried to kill each other. Yet Taichi never gave up like the others, like his parents. And gradually, with every blow to the walls he had put up, with every gentle caress of Taichi's fingers over his battered, bleeding heart, the emptiness faded. 

It would never be _gone_. It would come back to haunt him from time to time, more often when he was depressed, but it would never _be_ him again. 

Things were changing. He was all grown up, finished with high school and all ready to face the world. Without his best friend. Really, Taichi must be tired of having to put up with him. The constant mood swings, the frigid personality, and that deadly temper. Yamato knew he wasn't an easy person to love. 

Oh, but they wanted his body, his voice. He was just a prize they wanted to get their claws on. The "I love you Ishida Yamato"'s he heard every day were as worthless to him as dead mice on a platter. Yamato shuddered, remembering the lust in their eyes, knowing what they wanted to do with him. He was afraid of his fans sometimes. The music was the music. Ishida Yamato was Ishida Yamato. The boys and the girls chasing after him didn't _know_ Yamato, didn't _care_ about Yamato. They liked his songs, maybe, but Yamato was not his songs. The songs were part of _him_. 

Taichi understood that, had always understood that. The other boy had seen through to the vulnerability underneath his mask and didn't use it. He could have twisted until Yamato broke. He could have left Yamato in a puddle of his own tears. He didn't. 

But even Taichi could hurt him. 

Yamato shook his head. He refused to feel betrayed, refused to feel helpless. He couldn't control what Taichi or anybody else did. He could only control what Ishida Yamato did. And what Ishida Yamato did was perfect. Always. 

He picked up his beloved guitar, felt his hands slide into place, and the horrible, confusing feelings disappear. Slender fingers whispered over the strings. He had control. He had perfection. 

Yamato closed his eyes and let the music flow from him to the instrument. He began to sing without words, using a firm "Oh" sound, the melody of his voice in counterpoint with the melody of his guitar. A duet improvised on the spot. This was heaven. 

The phone rang, and he stopped singing. But he made no move to get up from the bed, and his fingers never stopped their delicate dance over the strings. 

The answering machine beeped. 

"Yama." 

His hand stumbled, and several wrong notes filled the room. He kept going. 

"I know you are there. Pick up the phone." 

Hard to concentrate now. His throat felt dry. 

"Don't be like this. I'm sorry about being so late and you have every right to be mad. But let me explain." 

And still Yamato didn't pick up the phone. 

"Yama?" 

He could hear a sigh from the other end. There was a short pause, then a click as Taichi hung up. 

_He didn't say goodbye._

OOOOOO 

Author's Note: I really _could _have finished this in one chapter, but isn't this just the perfect place to stop? 

In case you haven't guessed, this interesting growth in new unfinished stories is because I'm stuck with Enemy _and_ My Inferno. 

Rubisco. Is. An. Enzyme.


	2. Part II

Standard Disclaimer: Don't own it. 

Author's Note: Who's been reading too much 19th century literature? :::jumps up and down::: Me! So if anything appears abnormal to you (i.e. strange use of language) in the following piece of writing, I want you to know that I am perfectly aware of it...just _try_ not to flame me for it... 

Much thanks for all the reviews! 

Let's Not Say Goodbye 

He was sitting on the side of his bed when Taichi arrived, his back to the door. The slender figure was framed by the window where the sunlight streamed in, so that the golden hair dazzled. 

Taichi swallowed. "Yama?" 

No movement, icy silence. 

And Taichi cursed inwardly, cursed the rest of the world and everything in it for raising _his_ hand and striking yet another blow to such a fragile soul, a beautiful soul. What did it matter to the universe that the one day in his life when he absolutely had to be on time was the day his car got hit from behind? What did it matter that only he was needed and wanted in this apartment on this very day to lessen whatever pain the parting of ways would cause? 

Yama didn't want much, had never asked for much, and even this tiny little wish had been denied. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Come here," Yama said softly, patting the spot on the bed beside him. There was almost a tangible vulnerability about him that Taichi had never seen before. It made his chest clench painfully. 

"I'm not mad at you." Yamato continued, still in that soft, heart-breaking voice. "I understand...it must be such a strain to...to put up with me. I've been expecting too much...even from you. You've been so good to me, Tai, even...even when I hurt you...hurt you so bad...and you never left me alone...not for one moment..." 

Horror, such intense horror at what he was hearing, at the tears held behind angelic eyes. 

"No!" Taichi cried, seizing that delicate, immortal like frame and holding it fiercely against his heart. "You are not saying goodbye, Yama. Don't you _dare...not_ like this..." 

"But I'm leaving!" The blonde almost wailed, then forced himself to calm. "And we'll drift apart the way so many friends do. There are things I have to say. Things I haven't had or ever will have the courage to speak of. You of all people should know of my pride. And today I throw away my pride, Tai, for you." 

"If you...if you even _think_ about telling me this is better. If you honestly believe that you'll be better off as a fading memory to me. If for one second you think I don't need you more than you have ever needed me..." here Taichi took a deep breath, holding Yama ever so tightly, "you can't just _decide_ for other people. You don't know...have no idea...what is right and good for me..." 

"But I cling! I lash out! I am cold and cruel and when I speak my words are sharp. They cut you and make you bleed yet you still come back to me day after day..." 

"Because I know...how beautiful you are. Because I alone see past the shades you blind other people with and I _know_ how much you hurt... You've never been able to push me away, Yama, what makes you think you will succeed now?" 

Yama slipped out of his arms, walking forwards to stand before the window. 

"I had been thinking, Tai, when I thought you weren't going to come today. And I realized that never had I expected you _not_ to come. You might be married when next we see each other. I can't hold on to you forever. Best friends are not supposed to be possessive. I don't _own _you the way a man owns his lover. One day we will both be old men with white hair and trembling hands. How can I expect you to come at my call then?" 

"I'm sorry I was late. I--" 

"It's all right. I know you had good reason." 

"And in any case," Taichi stood up to join Yama by the window. "What makes you think I _won't_ come?" 

"Because friends don't--" Yama looked startled when he was silenced with a hand over his lips. 

"We are not friends." 

"We are not?" Taichi shook his head. "Then what...are we, Tai...?" 

And Taichi stroked the bright silken hair, leaning forward to whisper, "don't you see, Yama? We are lovers...and you _do _own me...in every way possible..." 

He hadn't meant to say it, hadn't meant to tell Yama at all. He had, in fact, made Hikari angry by planning to let Yama slip through his fingers. And now he held his breath. If he was going to lose Yama either way...well, then he would prefer the other boy to know. 

"What?" 

He could see so clearly into the wide blue eyes. There was shock, certainly, but too much fear. This was commitment; this was love...everything Yama had ever been frightened of. 

So to make everything even more difficult and complicated, Taichi had to say it. "I love you." 

He grasped Yama's wrist before the other boy could escape, tugging slightly so that the blonde fell against him. Taichi held him there, staring intently as Yama's normally pale cheeks became stained with rose. Yet the blue eyes flashed dangerously, a return of the old, razor sharp Yama. 

"Shh..." Taichi placed a finger against Yama's lips before any harsh words, words Yama would later regret, could emerge. 

They were so close. Never had he dreamed of being so close to this fascinating creature. Taichi could feel Yama's warmth pressed against him, could smell the other boy's intoxicating scent. And he trembled at the thought that he should kiss those lips, that the pale body should belong to him and him alone. 

"You said you'd throw away your pride for me," he whispered, moving his finger to the corner of Yama's mouth and tracing a path to his chin. "So tell me, how much do you need me?" 

He watched then, with his heart beating wildly, as Yama fought with himself to answer honestly. Less than a day ago, Yama would have retorted cruelly that he didn't need Taichi at all, that he didn't, in fact, need _anyone. _But the parting of ways and the startling revelations in the span of an hour had changed everything. 

"I...need you," Yama admitted miserably, clinging suddenly to Taichi as if he felt dizzy. "Isn't that enough?" 

Hurt. 

"But you don't love me." 

"I don't _know_," Yama said, almost angrily. "I've never _thought_ about it." 

The blonde seemed to wilt suddenly, and he continued softly, "I'm confused..." 

Taichi smiled at the dear expression on his beautiful face, and leaned forward to kiss him. It was a slow, soft brushing of lips. Innocent. 

But Yama gasped sharply and trembled. 

"It's okay," Taichi drew him closer, and Yama laid his head upon Taichi's shoulder. "You don't have to hide when I know you so well. You don't have to be afraid...to show weakness because I know, better than anyone, how strong you really are." 

They stood like that for a long time, together in the light of the sun through a window. And Taichi knew that no matter how afraid Yama was, how full of doubt the angel in his arms felt, there had been no rejection in this room today. 

All he had to do now was wait. And the day would come, when Yama would be ready, when he would finally allow himself to feel all that was good and right. 

"See, Yama? There's no reason to say goodbye, not when you are stuck with me for a long long time..." 

End 

OOOOOO 

Author's Note: I finished something! Yah! I always end up writing more when I have to work on English essays...I wonder why... :::sarcasm::: 

Rubisco. Is. An. Enzyme. 


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